I bristle, my face heating as his eyes sparkle with barely restrained mirth. He knows just how to goad me. And the worst part? I think he’s enjoying this.
“Of course I can do this.” I lift my chin. “If commoners can do it, it certainly cannot be that difficult.”
He snorts but quickly tries to cover it by clearing his throat. “Alright then. It’s settled.”
I scowl at his back as he removes the saddle from Vaelen.
“I can feel you glaring at me, my dear wife,” he says over his shoulder as he unpacks our supplies. “Unless I’m mistaken, and you’re gazing at me adoringly,” he teases. “And absolutely delighted by this whole experience.”
As much as I want to be furious, as much as I want to stomp my foot and demand a bed fit for a princess… I can’t ignore the way my lips twitch, because damn him, he is insufferable.
And worse? I don’t entirely mind it.
CHAPTER 14
VIVIENNE
Auren begins unrolling gear from Vaelen’s packs with calm efficiency while I scan the woods around us in concern. “Are you certain this is a good spot to camp?” I gesture broadly at the forest. “We have no idea what could be out there.”
His lips twitch. “Then you should be pleased I am here.”
I open my mouth to protest but quickly snap it shut, unsure how to answer, and also upset with myself that I am, in fact, pleased he is here. “Perhaps we should continue until we find an inn?”
“It would be several more hours of riding, my lovely bride.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “I don’t mind that.”
“Well, I do,” he replies. “We need to rest and so does Vaelen.”
He hands me a coil of rope and places several stakes next to my feet.
“Fine.” Snatching up a stake, I march toward the tent canvas.
Auren moves to my side. “First, we need to—”
“I don’t need your help,” I snap, thoroughly upset that we’re going to sleep in the woods like Orcs. “I can do it myself.”
“Alright.” He holds up his hands in mock surrender. A smile tugs at his mouth, and I fight the urge to throw the rope at his head. He really is the most exasperating man.
I try to do it the way I’ve seen the castle staff hammer stakes for pavilion tents during outdoor banquets. Which is to say: I stab it into the earth with brute force and determination and an insulting lack of technique.
The stake goes in crooked, so I try it again. When it leans further, I grit my teeth and try to adjust it. Without warning, the ground gives and the stake pops free.
The canvas shifts and one of the poles slips. The entire structure collapses in a heap as I stand there frozen, stake still in my hand.
A hot rush of humiliation flares in my chest, and I turn back to find Auren staring at the collapsed tent.
He remains very still. His lips are pressed tightly together as he fights back a smile.
“Your tent is flimsy,” I say sharply.
Auren’s brows lift. “My tent?”
“Yes.” I gesture at the heap of canvas. “Clearly it was poorly made.”
“I see,” he says, voice carefully even despite the restrained amusement sparkling in his gaze. “Then perhaps we should… reinforce it.”
I want the earth to swallow me whole. Instead, I give him an imperious look. “Obviously.”
